


Before They Know

by soullessbrothers



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Character Study, M/M, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-03 05:26:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1066280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soullessbrothers/pseuds/soullessbrothers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three reactions to Sam and Dean's growing relationship, over three time periods.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before They Know

**December 17 th, 1983**

“You wait here. Don’t move. Keep Sammy safe.”

John watches Dean nod and holds Sam tightly in his arms. He waits until they stand behind him on the stoop. He’s a couple of steps ahead and from the doorway, he can hear Dean point at the pigeons and Sam giggle at the sounds. When John rings the bell, Sam’s laugh becomes shrill. Dean names each of the birds and every name becomes more and more ridiculous. John looks up and the door’s already open.

“I just wanted the boys to—”

“Meet me. Yeah, I know.”

Missouri smiles at him and they walk into her home. She takes a spot on the sofa and she offers her hands out. Dean, surprisingly, hands Sam over and pulls himself up to sit beside her. John drops in the single armchair nearby and blinks as he listens to Dean talk. He hasn’t done that since the fire. They sit like that for God-knows how long before Sam falls asleep in the crook of her arm and Dean snores into her side.

“John, your boys.”

“That’s why I’m doing this, Missouri. For them.”

“No, John.” She shakes her head and smiles sadly at them. “They’re going to cause you a mess of heartbreak.”

 

—

 

**March 28 th, 1992**

His instructions are always the same. John tries the motel room door and it won’t budge. He unlocks the door and opens it. The lights are off. He nods. The light gives him greyscale vision and John glances over the small room. He nods again. Dean has tidied up after himself. It’s past eleven and both boys are under the covers. There isn’t a snore from either of them, but he presumes that it’s because they’re out cold. John takes his bag and puts it down near the door, locking it behind him.

As soon as he’s done, he grunts and pulls a quarter-full bottle of whiskey from his duffle. He takes a swig and wipes the back of his hand over gruff stubble. It won’t be long before he passes out on the other single bed. Before he does, he moves to stand over the boys, coiled tightly together in the other single. It’s at a more difficult angle now that Dean has turned thirteen, but they still fit. John isn’t going to burn through money to get bigger beds in cockroach bedrooms.  

Dean knows where he’s supposed to keep the handgun. John bends so he can slide a hand underneath their shared pillow and sighs when he feels cold metal. It’s too close to Sam’s head. He wraps fingers around it and pulls it back a few inches, stopping when he hears a faint whimper.

“S’okay, Sammy,” Dean murmurs. He’s still asleep.

The blanket shifts and John stands straighter. In the dim light, he can see the shadows twist lumps further up Dean’s back. A fist clenches. The corner of the blanket nearest to him is loose, so John slowly lifts it. Dean shuffles forward at the wave of chill.

John hadn’t realised that he couldn’t see Sam’s face clearly. It’s pressed up against Dean’s chest. His hands are underneath Dean’s shirt, palms flat against bare skin.

“Dean…”

There’s another grumble and John watches Dean’s hand weakly tug at Sam’s knee. Sam sighs and lifts it to curl over Dean’s shin. They press closer. John’s jaw clenches. He lowers the blanket and turns back to his bottle.

 

—

 

**January 7 th, 1994**

“You boys better not be tryin’ta fix stayin’ up all night.”

“No, sir.”

Bobby rolls his eyes at Dean and waves his hand. “Go on, now. Both of you. Git.”

Dean sighs and takes his time when he lifts himself from the sofa to turn off the TV. As soon as he stands, Sam jumps into place a step behind him. They murmur and Dean grins. He races across the room and skids out of the door to bang footsteps up the stairs. Sam scrambles after him.

Bobby shakes his head and turns back to his books. There’s a spell that needs to be broken, but it’s taking longer to find the origin than he expected. He pushes one book aside and starts with another, updating his ragged notes.

It’s morning before he has a chance to rest. Daylight is unwelcome. He looks up when the front door opens.

“Well, ain’t you a sight for sore eyes. Didn’t expect you back ‘til Tuesday.”

John grunts. “Where’s the boys?”

“Still sleepin’. You look like you could do with some shut-eye, too.”

“There’s a job in Wisconsin.”

“You want to leave the boys with me?”

“No.”

“You stupid son of a bitch. I’m offerin’ to help here.”

“And I said no.”

John narrows his eyes and sits where Sam and Dean fought for the remote the night before. He’s hunched over and ready to bolt.

“I’ll just go fetch ‘em, then, m’lady.”

There’s no answer. Bobby holds back and walks upstairs. There’s a giggle and he stops outside the room that the boys are sharing. He had tried to separate them a few times, but Dean would shout and Sam would whimper, so he stopped fighting that battle years ago. The door opens in silence and the boys are already awake.

Bobby freezes. From his position in the doorway, he can see Sam sitting up. His back is to the door, the blankets screwed up behind him. Bobby can see his legs spread over Dean’s hips. He looks like he’s straddling his brother, with Dean lying on his back.

“Please?”

Dean laughs and pushes himself on his elbows. Sam bends down. Bobby turns away and steps back out of the doorway, but not before he hears the sound of their lips joining.

“Boys! Time to, time to get up. Your dad’s here.”

The next sounds are full of shuffles and bedspring creaks. Bobby’s sure that he can hear Dean curse, but he’s learned a lot of that from John. Not that Bobby likes an almost-fifteen year old talking like a man.

“Get your asses down for breakfast.”

Bobby descends back down the stairs and finds John in the same position. He clears his throat and stands in front of him. He glances back at the stairs and there are more noises of movement, of the boys getting dressed. They know not to keep John waiting.

“John, you gotta speak to them. T’ain’t natural, so close at that age.”

John glowers. “They coming or not?”

“Listen, they’re just kids.”

“Bobby.”

“They don’t know no better. You’ve got to teach them. Hell, Sam’s stuck to Dean’s hip and,” Bobby takes a breath. “It’s that age.”

“You telling me how to raise my boys?”

“If they’re kissin’ like a coupla turtledoves, then yeah, I am.”

John lurches to his feet and snarls. “You think I don’t know I’ve got some goddamn, goddamn monsters? You think I don’t know?”

“You’ve got to do somethin’. It’s wrong. All kindsa wrong.”

John storms past him and barks up the stairs. “We’re leaving now, boys!”

Thirty seconds pass before Dean runs down the stairs with Sam in tow. John opens the door and they march outside. The look of disgust is clear to Dean. The boy drops his head.

When they climb into the Impala, Bobby walks out to say goodbye. John ignores him and slams his foot on the gas, but not before Bobby can see Dean’s hurt and Sam’s comforting cheek on his brother’s shoulder.


End file.
